Prequels
by totimbuktu
Summary: A teenaged Uhura opens Spock up to the merits of his human side. Can Spock possibly learn that there is more than the red soil of Vulcan for him? Rated M for possible future chapters
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Welcome to my first Star Trek fic. Enjoy!

Also I don't own any of the Star Trek movie characters, plots, etc.

Summer 2249

Bleary-eyed she found the pink bunny alarm clock her bestie Zandi had given her showing a bright green 0800 hours. Searching through the covers for her favorite PADD Uhura checked her messages, not wanting to leave the comfort of her bed and the colorful wall designs despite the excitement sure to follow.

Nyota spent extra time looking at the imitations of her favorite artists spread out over the walls in colorful life. She had taken a hodgepodge of artistic periods and jammed them into her room and loved the discordant feel. Even when Zandi had convinced her that a neon green would add the finishing touch Nyota was happy with the rush of color and feeling clear there.

Still Nyota had bigger things to think about. Today she would embark on an exchange of culture that few could claim, and it would add to her growing list of experiences that would mold her into the star-crossing, culturally sensitive, linguistic bad ass that she would need to be to conquer her longterm goals.

All that and she was ready to spend some time speaking the language she had only heard via recordings or short sessions with her mother. Even at fifteen Nyota had learned to speak somewhat passable Vulcan and she wanted to make sure that by the time she applied for the academy it was as close to flawless as possible.

So Nyota Uhura was going to go with her parents to Vulcan. And if she could make it out of bed, they might even get on the shuttle waiting to take them to the transit station in Nairobi in time for their beam up to the international spaceport over San Francisco by noon.

Clawing her way through the fabric of her coverlet, Uhura was able to twist out of the purple, pink contraption at last, with only a few chunks of hair coming out of her loose ponytail.

Standing up straight she stretched and padded into the bathroom to shower before beginning the journey.

Her mother's voice echoed up the stairwell, "Nyota you better get down here if you want anything to eat before we have to take off!" It felt like a regular school morning with the mass of nerves that had started to form in her belly.

shrugging into a cute strappy white top and a comfy gold pullover for the cold shuttle and breathable fabric leggings, Uhura took one last look at her now kempt hair and outfit before lugging her suitcase up from the floor and slipping on a pair of black plush-lined boots for the occasion.

It was never cold in Kenya and wouldn't be cold on the desert-like Vulcan, but she was taking no chances with the chill that formed in her bones during long shuttle travel.

Grabbing a warm baked sweet potato and a swig of chilled tea, Nyota was out the door to present her bag to the waiting attendant. She hated the idea that it would be almost three months before she and Zandi could hang out and felt a twinge of regret that her friend couldn't make it out to say goodbye. At least they were both occupied with things this summer instead of one person being alone.

Noticing Nyota's sad face, her father and mother looked at eachother knowingly, giving their young daughter time to look out at the horizon in the direction of Zandi's house before closing the shuttle door and puttering off to the transport station.

ON VULCAN

Abrasive sounds came from the comm as Spock passed by his mother absorbing a culture lesson in the study to help with the visit by an Earth diplomat, her husband, and their teenage daughter. Apparently on Earth young adults were encouraged to some very interesting forms of self expression. Spock, while glad for his mother's attentiveness to detail, was unable to glean merit from the media she was enduring and inwardly thanked his Vulcan upbringing from at least saving him from such noise.

At eighteen Spock was more occupied with him upcoming interview with the Vulcan Science Academy counsel. After years of work and enduring the taunts of inferiority from his peers and elders alike Spock would be afforded the opportunity to gain some measure of respect and secretly he hoped acceptance.

It was with un-Vulcan anticipation that Spock waited for the moment, some two months away, when with a probability of 87.6993 percent he might be accepted to what he had come to think of as the answer.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

a/n: I couldn't really wait for a review of my first chapter because I just felt the urge to write a little more. Forgive me?

On a shuttle near Vulcan

Sitting with her plug comms device in her ear so that she could listen to some music, Nyota had contorted her body so that her chin rested on her hands draped over the arm rest of her seat. Amazingly she was still buckled and balanced enough that when her mother shook her she startled but didn't fall.

Shaking her head at her daughter Adilah pointed to the small point of red rapidly growing in the small port window of the shuttle. Nyota gazed at the red planet unmoving, taking in the beauty of the planet as a correspondingly haunting melody flowed through the plugs in her ears. Nyota's skin tingled with the fusion of sight, sound, and sensation as the shuttle came into orbit over Vulcan and adjusted to the pull of the planet. Her stomach lurched and she sat up to pick up her belongings. Trip Vulcan was starting off even better than expected.

On Vulcan

Spock was off brooding with one of his experiments, though he would never appreciate Amanda's usage of the term brooding in application to her son. But when she thought of his serious expression and the hours he spent watching the tiniest extract of knowledge appear from his work, Amanda could not think of a more apt term. She giggled as she chopped more of the delicate yellow fruit for the salad. Her guests would arrive to a planet that would steal water reserves from their bodies within seconds in the full heat of the Vulcan.

Cutting artfully Amanda had managed to produce a beautiful geometric pattern of several Vulcan and non-Vulcan varieties of fruit. Tucking in one last piece, she leaned against the counter of her obsidian seamless kitchen and pronounced success. Her menu would include several saliva inducing dishes made with vegetarian sensitivity as Adilah had assured her that the Uhura's were comfortable with a vegetarian diet and even gave a few recipes she thought might fit well with the local vegetation.

Her meal plan for tomorrow complete Amanda went to freshen up for the short ride to meet with the dignitaries involved in this three month long exchange. She wondered if Spock would remember sustenance with the absorption his recent project had created. As an afterthought she left a small wrapped plate of flatbread and a tabouleh made with the substitution of a Vulcan grain-like plant in the absence of cracked wheat on the counter with a note.

Nyota eyes and neck strained to see the end of the horizon. Stepping off the grounded shuttle she looked out at the flat expanse of seemingly endless red earth and felt dropped into a primal world wrapped in a haze of blood-red. Taking larger breaths to compensate for the thinner atmosphere and the searing heat, it took her a few minutes to pick up on the awaiting transport with a gleaming hull and markers bearing the importance of the guests being transported. She pulled her luggage along after her parents and tried not to stare at the Vulcan attendant who took her bags.

So far Vulcan was less sterile than she had expected, it was almost poetic. Her parents sat in the seats in front commenting on the weather and topography to the stoic attendant. He responded in kind with explanations of the climate and weather cycles, and the two elder Uhuras practiced their easy Vulcan. Uhura wondered if she might find someone her age to begin practice of the language with soon. It was nice to learn, but she preferred something more interesting than the weather cycles of Vulcan.

They arrived an hour or so to the outlying edge of a large city she guessed was ShiKahr. It formed a large ring shape and was unlike the jumbled and beautifully mixed cities of Earth. It looked almost sad from a distance, so ordered and toy-like against the harsh baked cracked earth. Exiting the shuttle, Nyota walked onto a marble floor and into a mathematician's wonder of a city. Even the most ordered places on Earth had never seemed such a reflection of devotion to perfect logic and mathematics. It was like Nyota had woken up in Tesla's dreams.

LATER

After an hour of prepping, hair combing, trussing, and prepping herself for the meeting she was to attend with her parents, Nyota was less disposed to notice the perfection of the city and tried unsuccessfully to keep a slight pout from her features. Her mom looked over from her own chair and reminded her daughter that in Vulcan terms she might look downright surly.

Nyota's disposition cleared slightly, but she still felt tight, itchy, confined, and exhausted sitting in the formal wear. The Vulcan attendants had insisted that Nyota wear a set of the Vulcan formal robes, citing Vulcan customs and blushingly pointing to Nyota's unwed status and uncovered arms. She had to admit they were a gorgeous shade of plum, bright amongst the many muted shades of Vulcan women's wear. Lady Amanda had chosen this shade especially for her, she learned later.

For now Nyota could only hope to survive the coming event and be able to crawl into bed at the large estate of Ambassador Sarek and Lady Amanda without having done any damage to the peace process. Giving one last huff Nyota entered the room behind her mother and proceeded to stay quiet unless prompted and staying near the refreshments when at all possible.

From a distance Lady Amanda watched the young girl that would be spending much time in her home with more than passing interest. She was surprised by how lovely the girl was for someone her age, how poised. The ambassador's daughter had managed to avoid many of the awkward pitfalls of youth like acne and gangly appendages. Her eyebrow arched, Amanda wondered to herself if she could have appeared as well being a teenager on an unknown planet after exhausting travel. But Sarek indicated a need for her presence and she could no longer watch the young Uhura.

Spock emerged from his study ravenous and aware of the time. He was needed at the gala held for the new dignitaries in short time. Spotting the plate of food, Spock only briefly savored the new flavors of the tabouleh as the tomatoes burst in his mouth and unknown spices and herbs assaulted his senses before he had to go and change. His internal clock had been nearly mute for the level of concentration he had today. It was the last benchmark before he could test his contraption. But he was to be at the gala soon and left those thoughts for later.

Arriving in time to greet his parents and some other guests before heading to the refreshment table to supplement his small meal, Spock was in such a rush he almost didn't hear the sneer of one of the small groups of young Vulcan women hidden among the balustrades of the room. As it were, a young woman in purple heard the remark clearly, as it could only have been intended for her in her mind. With a cool face that belied the internal rage Nyota experienced at perceived slight against her genetics, she lightly said in Vulcan, "Apparently the tendency to assume is not merely a weak human trait. My genetics allow me to understand and hear your insults well enough."

Blushing green, the young woman who had made the comments turned to regard the purple-robed human with almost contempt before turning to leave. Nyota grinned before she remembered her intention to make it through the event without messing with the the balance of things. Still, she felt justified standing up for her race as none of the other girls had felt the need to.

Spock stood at the table plate in hand and food forgotten, intrigued by what he had just witnessed.

So that's it for chapter 2...I'm not sure exactly how that went, but if you liked it let me know!


	3. Chapter 3

a/n: Our favorite couple meet years before the events of the movies, but I'm really guessing and fudging a little here. I thought about how I would get Uhura to Vulcan and ambassador is one of the few occupations I thought would get her into his home and close enough for substantial interaction. Plus, as whipsmart and socially savvy as our Uhura is, she gets it from somewhere. I also decided against a teenaged spock and pre-teen Uhura scenario because I just can't write child characters with strong defined opinions. Also, in the movie I wanted to explore the slight to his mother that caused him to reject the VSA and the timeline just seemed to fit the reboot. Either way enjoy my interpretations of the characters of star trek.

AFTER THE GALA

Nyota sat on the vanity stool of a spacious room and pulled slowly at the knots and plaits in her hair, relaxing inch by inch as her hair was loosened from the severe Vulcan hairstyle and she began to feel more like herself. Going over the events following her encounter with the rude Vulcan girls, Nyota strung her hands through her hair absently with a pile of purple silkly fabric laying over her forearms and flowing down to the floor in puddles. She had managed to get out of the outer purple garment and confining belts, but left the soft shift and pants on. A sudden flare of anger rose up in her as she thought about the things they said when they thought she didn't understand.

Those girls had been insufferable. Their talk of humans and their lack of logic and emotional control had been irritating, but she snapped when they had the nerve to refer to Lady Amanda Grayson as some wanton whore. It struck her normally controlled center to hear such ugly words about a woman she admired. No, it was something deeper, the tone was filled with contempt and created an angry black pit in Nyota's stomach. Whatever her sexual inclinations, previous professions, or heritage, the Lady Amanda Nyota had studied over her mother's shoulder was poised, intelligent, passionate, and incredibly brave. Nyota doubted those girls would dare voice such opinions to the ambassador's wife in person let alone people outside of their ignorant circle. Let them try and forge an entirely different life in such a xenophobic elitist environment with a man of ambassador Sarek's station and do half as well. Lady Amanda was proof that humans could do quite fine for themselves on Vulcan, whatever handicap the Vulcan girl imagine them to have. Nyota smiled smugly, certain that her quip had been well placed if not well received.

Afterwards the gala had been mostly muted and uneventful. She had poked at the food on her plate and found conversation with a few of the young people who had followed their parents across the stars, but made no headway in practicing her Vulcan. A few times after the spat she felt as if there was someone watching her, but she attributed it to the boredom that turned into fatigue and frayed her nerves hours into the gala. There were a few cute guys, but she found that she couldn't shake what she had been briefed about by her mother.

Vulcans had marriage arranged at a very early age. With the exception of ambassador Sarek she couldn't even really know if any of the boys worth mooning over in the room would ever consider a human attractive. She felt certain that she was not unattractive, with dark almost feline eyes, a full pouted lip, and an attention to exercise that gave her a lithe body. Plus, she was certain that her attitude had to be a million times more bearable than that other girl. So Nyota stayed close to the refreshment and fringe crowd, nodding to her parents occasionally to reassure them. It was until the end that things got a bit more interesting...

DURING THE GALA

Spock realized his mouth had formed a small o of shock for exactly .4 seconds after he witnessed the retreat of the group of Vulcan girls in the face of this girl in the plum dress. Plum, like the color of the sweet fruit his mom had fed him in youth. Dark, beautiful, and sweet, perhaps not unlike the young woman before him? He shook that unbidden thought away mentally and recovered himself enough to recognize the daughter of ambassador Uhura. Sweeping Vulcan fabric and attire had nearly transformed her from the grinning relaxed pose of her dossier picture. She seemed to own even the Vulcan robes, walking with a slow natural grace that fit the event quite well. Spock made a mental note of approval, this Nyota was not what he expected in the best way. If only he could have had his tormentors running away from him with a few well placed words.

Circling around the room a few times to exchange customary greetings and emptying his plate in turn, Spock sought out the plum to see if it had moved and was getting into anything that could take his mind from the tedium of the gala. Unfortunately, the small enclaves of young Vulcans had learned not to speak near her and grew quiet as she neared and dispersed quickly. In fact she made acquaintances that seemed entirely offspring of the delegates attending from offworld. Spock failed to keep back the small nagging disappointment at being unable to witness her in action again and not being able to gather the courage to walk up to her. It had been some time since someone had so intrigued him and elicited such positive emotions in him.

After Lady Amanda spotted the youngest Uhura trailing her finger down the lace of the refreshment table cloth, she decided to excuse herself and engage with Nyota and find some way to entertain her soon-to-be house guest for a bit. It was unfortunate that the gala had been so large that immediate introductions of the many young adults at the event had been impossible. Determined to gain some release from the current discussion her husband was having with an Andorian scientist about the implications of some newly mapped regions of a rare swig mouth on weather patterns she interjected saying she was in need of refreshment. While she was capable of understanding the gist of the conversations, they had quickly rolled down into a valley of detail that made it difficult to desire following down that path.

Tipping a small cup into a stream of sparkling water, she struck up a conversation with the young Nyota in Vulcan, having heard from her mother that the girl understand a great deal of the language. Nyota perked up instantly at the use of Vulcan directed at her, and soon the two had covered quite a bit of conversational ground. Nyota now knew more about Lady Amanda's journey to Vulcan and felt instantly comforted by the older woman's ease and dry sense of humor. Their conversation ended too quickly as the gala finally wound down and the two women walked arm and arm like old friends toward Nyota's parents, ambassador Sarek, and a tall young Vulcan man.

Appraising him from afar, Nyota was surprised to find that his features were much less Vulcan up close. She immediately saw Lady Amanda's big brown eyes and some hint of emotion in them in his face. She squirmed slightly and offered a tilt of the head in lieu of a handshake. Lady Amanda spoke," This is Spock, the son of ambassador Sarek and I. You and he will no doubt get to know each other well as you stay with us these three months." A hint of a smirk lifted the corner of her mouth at the polite exchange between the two young people. There was nothing better Amanda would like than to find someone to be a friend to her Spock. If her previous conversation with Nyota had been any indicator, Spock would learn twice as much from Nyota than he himself might teach her about the whole of Vulcan. That is, if Spock would let her.

Introductions having been made, the group moved towards a vehicle that glided along the marble walkways leading to the palatial residence of the ambassador and Lady Amanda.


	4. Chapter 4

THE MORNING AFTER

All parties involved in the gala reached the front door and after a quick tour everyone agreed to retire for the evening. Nyota had slept well in a bed that was easily twice as large as the one she had back on Earth. Everything seemed scaled for royalty, though the cozy two story home set out on her family's ancestral land wasn't too shabby. But the excitement of the trip wore on her and as soon as her head hit the pillow sleep swallowed her buzzing thoughts.

Waking up was pleasant and disorientating in equal amounts. A small chime alerting the presence of an attendant shifted her from the last stage of sleep and she groggily looked up to the face of a surprisingly maternal looking Vulcan woman waiting to assure that the young woman woke up in time for breakfast. Nyota thanked her for the wake up, and realized she probably could have left her alarm clock at home, where it wouldn't look so small and out of place.

She had woken up a full fifteen minutes before she had set the alarm, but she was uncharacteristically alert and dressed in no time flat. Choosing a soft button down t-shirt that reminded her of a twentieth century archaeologist with its front pockets in a faint cream coupled with a pair of worn jean bermuda shorts her hair tossed into pigtails and comfy sandles, she felt ready for the day. Although most Vulcans covered up, Lady Amanda had assured her that she wouldn't be expected to do as much outside of the formal event environment. At the last minute she picked out a cute gold necklace with her name written in urdu her mother bought a long time ago.

Traipsing down the stairs staring up at the molding, paintings, and etchings that seemed to line every inch of the households walls and ceilings, Uhura barely caught her balance when she collided with a very solid and impossibly tall form at the intersection of two sets of stairs. The rigidity of his body had made her wobble back then fall forward until her body nearly flush against his as she attempted to prevent a fall down a further set of stairs. She stared with a frozen guppy face into large brown eyes.

Spock had been in the middle of reading an alert pinged to him from the computers he had analyzing a string of data from his experiment and as a result was unprepared for the sudden thump of a soft body against his. His shields had also been down and caught some of the residual embarrassment that flushed from the young woman through her, by Vulcan standards, provacatively thin shirt. He had to stifle a rush of amusement at the look on her face. Wide eyes with a cat like shape framed two brown irises that were dilated and a pouted curved lip was gapped open in what look a perfect imitation of his cousin's childhood pet goldfish.

Taking stock of her face, Spock eyes move to the golden glint that followed the v-neck line of her button down and he got a glance of soft brown skin that suddenly jolted him to his senses. He, or rather they, were standing in a position that would be construed as risque by both of their respective cultures, and he couldn't help the creep of heat up his neck that would more than likely be followed by green. Gently he spoke," Nyota I believe you are no longer in danger of falling, and I must remind you that Vulcan culture is very different from that of Earth. I am a touch telepath and as such physical contact is not advisable."

Nyota blinked and moved away from Spock, feeling a tingle of cool where their bodies had touched and a surge of adrenaline that made her squeak as she excused herself and ran down the stairs to an area she hoped would lead to the dining quarters.

Spock stood rooted for 3.8 minutes trying to capture the different emotions swirling around in his mind. Amusement, surprise, embarrasment, and some other less indentifiable feelings were there in such amounts as to be cause for concern in the Vulcan. Rarely did he feel other than one or two emotions at a time, and less often did he feel them so strongly. He would have to meditate on this event later. For now he had exactly one minute to arrive on time to first meal.

FIRSTMEAL

Nyota tried to keep her eyes from meeting Spock's for most of breakfast and concentrated on answering all of Lady Amanda's queries. It seemed that the conversation was subdued in comparison to her usual breakfast. The feeling was exacerbated by the slight echo in the large hall that served as the dining room. She would have to see if all of the house made her feel so small.

But there was no shortage of hospitality in the form of food. Abilah Uhura was a proficient cook, but the ambassador and her family exclaimed over the different flavors and foods that filled a large portion of the incredibly long table. Everyone ate quickly of a large fruit salad, prepared by Lady Amanda herself, and a wide variety of vegetarian dishes, juices, soups, breads, sweet breads, and puddings. Once the attendants had carried away the remainder, the three adults went over their iteneraries and walked towards the front hall to begin their day. Nyota and Spock stayed behind, Spock being given explicit instructions to spend the day with Nyota.

Spock having received said instructions months ago, explained the activities he had planned in more detail than the schedule Nyota had. They would visit the ruins of the an Ancient pre-Surak city and take a guided tour of the inner maze tombs built under the city and recently reconstructed with fortifications to prevent collapse. Following that they were to spend the afternoon at a concert held by a Vulcan artist, he was to perform a reworking of a song by an Earth artist from the classical period.

Nyota's eyes were gleaming as she listened to Spock describe the archaelogical wonder, but she was uncertain about the music she was to be subjected to. Sure she listened to a lot of music Zandi said was "out there," but she hadn't really gotten to explore a lot of the classical period, not since her first piano lesson. Her mom and dad were adamant that their daughter would be able to find some means of self expression and so early on she had explored different mediums.

The piano teacher was a stout old German woman that lived in a house that had stale air and dogs with unnaturally long bodies. Maybe the dogs were cute, but she had bristled when her teacher took a swipe at her fingers with a heavy wooden stick at her first mistake. After that horrible lesson she had tried and succeeded in finding peace and creating beautiful things with almost anything other than music. She especially disliked the ticking of the metronome and on principle avoided listening to classical music.

Spock enjoyed the happy reception his news about the ruins produced but quirked an eyebrow when a cloud passed over Nyota's features when he mentioned the music. Surely the attendant had not erred when noting that the youngest Uhura had spent nearly the entire ride to the city encased in her headphones? Spock had thought to add an activity with a higher percentage of retaining her interest. Contemplating the likelihood of finding a suitable substitution in time, Spock resigned himself to being half right on his first day of entertaining. Perhaps he would have to admit defeat on many future occasions when it came to this young woman.


	5. Chapter 5

a/n: Sorry for the lack of response to my fabulous reviewers. As this is the second fic I've done there is much I have to learn. It sounds like you are getting into Nyota and Spock as much as I am. For now I'm going to throw a wrench in young Spocks plans. Keep reviewing to let me know how you like it please!

IN THE FOOTHILLS OF VULCAN

Spock landed the small shuttle in the designated landing space for visitors of the ancient site. Vulcan was in its period of fullest heat and the ground was bone dry. Huge puffs of red earth lifted and settled on impact both small and large. Nyota took a first bounding step out of the shuttle, excited and bubbling with anticipation. Spock let one corner of his mouth lift up in a small smirk at her enthusiasm. This had been the correct choice then. They reached the entrance to the site and Spock exchanged a few quick words with one of the guides who gave him a pre-requested pamphlet and packet. While Spock was occupied Nyota looked down at the sloping incline that led to the mazes and her heartbeat sped up.

A pair of dark black eyes stared up at her. They were mezmorizing, set deep under thick and curiously expressive brows. A tall young man sporting casual clothing was looking at her in obvious interest. Nyota felt under-dressed under that stare. She had not seen a Vulcan anything like him. Dressed in casual clothing she guessed was designed for architects he appeared relaxed, open, almost inviting. Nyota's eyes nearly bugged out when his lips curved up in one corner. This was trouble Nyota realized. She could get herself into so much trouble with a guy like that. Nyota had found her very own living work of art.

Spock turned around to see that Nyota had not continued her happy lope down the path and was staring at something in the distance. A man a few years older than him, possibly early twenties, was standing several meters down and looking at Nyota as if he was an appraiser that had just spotted a rare find. While Spock did not disagree with the man's assessment, he was unnerved by the frank stare and defiant flare of his upturned mouth. No this did not bode well, especially considering the look Nyota was giving in return. She was practically mooning Spock huffed in his mind. He was indignant that his plans seemed to have been forgotten at that one glance. Attempting to salvage the mood, Spock cleared his throat and spoke," Nyota it seems that all is in order. If you are amenable we can begin touring the mazes. This package is filled with notes about the artwork of the maze walls. Your dossier indicated an interest in art. Perhaps you would rather view some other aspect of the site? I can explain the physics of the reconstruction work and we might locate an anteroom of one of the great tombs. Nyota?"

At the sound of her name in question format Nyota's brain began to re-enter the present world and she found that the young man with the eyes had turned to help lead a group into the mazes. It had only been a few seconds of staring, but she still felt a faint fluttering in her stomach. Turning back to her patient companion Nyota shook the moment off, thinking she would probably never see the man again after she and Spock explored one of the myriads paths in the great collection of mazes.

Spock took the opportunity of her regained awareness and strode off to the third of eight entrances saying over his shoulder,"Nyota please follow me. I have planned a rather stimulating trip into the anteroom of a great poet of the era before Surak. I believe the emotional content of the inscriptions on his belongings and artwork will be of great interest to you."

Nyota grinned fully then, touched at Spock's detour from the logical. She practically skipped until she stood at Spock's side. Chancing a look up at him, she looked into his eyes hands clasped behind her in uncertainty. There she thought she saw a sparkle. Then again it might have been her imagination. In her mind any species could not have survived and cultivated a civilization on such a harsh and beautiful climate and not been marked with deep emotions. Secretly she wanted to call B.S. on the big Vulcan bluff of perfect control. She took Spock's proferred elbow as he stopped under the lintel of the entranceway, and they walked carefully along the dusty corridors until there was little light. Spock stopped to retrieve a small lamplight from his pack and held it up in front of them. Since his sight in darkness was relatively keen the measure along with his elbow was taken to protect his guest.

Nyota took to marveling at nearly everything in their path and still her excitement hadn't dimmed by the time they reached a four way intersection with small stools and what looked like replacement maps. Spock inclined his head toward a bench and reached into his pack pulling out small flatbread pockets filled with an amazing mixture of sauteed vegetables, cool drinks, and small salads. Nyota ate heartily as Spock consumed a container of salad with a fork. He had seen his mother eat without utensils on a few occasions and she seemed to enjoy it immensely.

Spock was glad of the similarity between the two and had to quickly hide his amusement when Nyota looked at him after consuming her second pocket. Nyota held out the remaining pocket to Spock and in a moment of uncertainty he acted on impulse. Nyota was shocked when Spock lowered his mouth to the pocket still in her hand and bit. His lips grazed her fingers slightly and she felt a thrill run through her body at the light touch. Spock kept his eyes locked on hers as he finished chewing the bite. She was flustered by the sudden intensity and felt a flush beginning to spread over her face. Nyota was the first to break the tense silence saying," Good huh?" Spock replied matter of factly," Yes, quite a balanced mix of nutrients," his eyes lingering on her fingers. Nyota cheesed at that, trying to lighten the mood and stood up from the bench quickly. Nyota thought she saw Spock smirk before he initiated cleaning up and lost the intensity of earlier. The pair packed up the remains and placed them in a bag for later disposal.

Her thirst slaked and hunger satiated, Nyota was ready to begin again. Spock chose the path he knew was correct and the two walked near each other arms nearly touching. After a few feet Nyota slid her hand around Spocks elbow as she needed his balance in order to lose herself in the images carved and painted into the walls. Soon she had forgotten Spock's unusual behavior and was enjoying the art tremendously. Happy to have come to Vulcan and met with such an amazing opportunity, Nyota was sad she couldn't share it. Zandi would probably kill to see one of the life-like figures.

Some time later the path began to widen and the two travelers found themselves at a heavy door propped open to reveal a wealth of classical Vulcan script illuminated in paints and mediums of a dozen different varieties alighting stone, shells, jewels, walls, and a plethora of objects laid out carefully on two large stone slabs with perfectly etched edges and detailed carvings. At the foot of the slabs was the statue of a Vulcan man dressed in curiously little clothing. His muscled chest and arms were visible between bunched swaths of cloth, and his calves peeking out from one parted seam. His face was beautiful, filled with what appeared at once mirth, angst, anger, and great contemplation. One arm was clutched to his side and the other reached out to some unknown. Those arched eyebrows lifted in such extreme and complex sentiment touched Nyota and she felt a single drop of moisture escape onto the floor where it stained the red earth like blood. Spock stood observing from a short distance, unwilling to break the spell cast by the room. His face was solemn if not reverent looking at a likeness of the poet and Nyota's quiet worship.

Nyota turned to Spock and her voice sounded like a plea," I have to hear him Spock, read his words to me."

A/N: So that's all I have for today, but it's getting good yes? Hopefully you guys picked up on the perplexing behavior of a few Vulcan males. I'm excited about how I'm going to spin this one. Love mojo is in the air, no? Oh yea, please review? I really want to know if there's anything at all I can change or any plot holes you would like filled.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: I've gotten the feeling that a good amount of people are making it at least past the first chapter of my story which is flattering as hell. Thank you to the reviewers for your encouragement and commentary.

I do feel like I should explain the character of young Nyota a little bit because of the last chapter. Nyota in both the original television series and the reboot is not only a communications officer adept in languages, but incredibly understanding of culture. Her main love is languages, but so much of the subtext of language is cultural that she has to get something from Spock's designed trip. She's on a planet that's known for its incredible secrecy and here she is, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed with a chance to explore a place that is not only a visual treat, but an homage to a part of Vulcan that few if any non-VUlcan visitors have seen. She's poised for her age, but has a boundless enthusiasm for things she likes which may include sir Spock. At least that's how I view this all. Maybe I was a little gungho in introducing this trip so early in their acquaintance, but this fic is rated M. I need some sort of catalyst to encourage emotion. As for Spock, he's been isolated and treated to female attention only in the form of his icicle betrothed and a young beautiful human woman explodes onto the scene. That and I swear there is magic in those tunnels. Nuff said for now. Either way enjoy and let me know how it all sounds.

IN THE ANTEROOM

Spock could not refuse her request, the look on her face was so plaintive. In fact, he couldn't entirely ignore the welling up of small snakes of emotion himself at finding such a beautiful piece of Vulcan history locked away from general society. He had only found this place because of his older brother. Lady Amanda had insisted that he show his guest something unexpected and he suddenly thought of the last talk he had with his brother and how beautifully Sybok had described the ruins to be. Certain of few things about his sibling, Spock was sure that Sybock had a better grasp of things and places that could allow emotional expression than he. Few Vulcans visited this site in all honesty. What people were found wandering about likely had leanings like those of his older brother Sybok or were interested in the success of the reconstructive efforts in terms of their impact on other archaelogical sites of a less turbulent period on Vulcan. It was an unfortunate circumstance.

Resigning himself to giving Nyota what she wanted, Spock cleared his throat finding it drier than he had anticipated. There was a slight pinch of concentration between his brows before he brushed a thick covering of dust from an artifact and began to read the classical Vulcan on the small polished metal mirror.

"Spill kisses into my mouth Dear rainstorm.

Strike my body with your blue vengeance,  
stretched from the infinity of your long and crackling torso.

Cool then heat the breath heaved from your exhilarations over me.

Your lover's breath will kill me,

but not before the world knows your inconstance.

Who releases then smothers the life from me like you?"

Nyota had closed her eyes to listen with perfect attention, slowly they opened to regard Spock with a wet joy. "You spoke with some indicators to the feminine gender. A woman wrote this for him? She must have loved him a great deal, even more because of his volatility."

Hugging her body Nyota turned and looked to the statue again saying,"What an inescapably beautiful face."

Spock wanted to say the same but felt his words catch at a dryness in his throat. He swayed as the room expanded and there was a sudden seeping of emotions, leeching from his mind like ground water. Suddenly he could imagine this man, filled with an explosive need to possess, his hand clutched over his heart to keep it from tearing out of his side and his hand stretched out to the woman he loved as if the molecules of his being would conquer gravity and disperse into the wind.

Could one person be the object of emotions so strangling even to their source? Spock felt confusion as he began to imagine himself as the man, leaning hand outstretched to the retreating form of Nyota Uhura. In that moment Spock felt as if he could splinter like light into the universe of stars, points of brightness trying to fill a great void of black despair. If he had her, earned her love, could he bear to lose it? Would the pieces of his being flash a silent morse code over the millennia begging to touch and be whole again? Closing his eyes and gritting his teeth together, Spock fought with the explosion of emotions and instead lost to the blackness fringing his vision.

Nyota heard the thump of his body hit the floor and rushed over to his prone form. Checking his pulse she found it thready and light, his eyes darting frantically under the lids. With little medical training and no hope of carrying the much larger Vulcan, Nyota did the first thing she could think of. Her cries for help traveled far and fast to reach the ears of another young Vulcan.

Alarmed at the thought of losing Spock in this way, so far under the surface, Nyota collected herself and began to dig through his pack searching for any comms device that might penetrate the Earth this far down. Unfortunately Spock had fallen on his pack and the comms device sat in pieces dangling off of Nyota's palm. Redoubling her efforts Nyota located a map and tried to spot communal areas where people might gather as they had for lunch or areas with displays on the physics of reconstructing the site. Checking Spock's pulse again Nyota felt tears well up before she stifled them and demanded calm and logical thinking.

Spock was much heavier than her, the maze was complex enough that she decided against venturing out too far without Spock, and Spock's condition was patchy right now, no she would stay put or find a way to take Spock with her. Thinking back to her survival training she realized she might be able to carry Spock for a quarter of a mile if she carried him on her back with his arms over her shoulders locked at the hands. But if she chose a direction to go she would have to be certain of finding someone. Looking back at the innards of the commas device a sudden idea lit through her brain. digging through her bag she found a small rubber tipped device use to manicure her nails with. cracking open the comms device completely she spotted the component circuit she would need.

Working fast Nyota carefully ran the sharp edge of her tool over a wire. For a few minutes of intense concentration she rewired the course of the sound panel. Normally when started up the device went through a series of internal check to determine integrity of the hardware, and upon failure emitted a high whine. Nyota found that by manipulating the connection of the sound panel she could break the whine into single emissions and control their length. She repeated a short series of sound that roughly translated into an S.O.S. and hoped someone could hear the sound and locate them before Spock's condition got worse.

a/n: So short chapter, but I was a little tired today while writing. Plus, this chapter was a little tricky with the poetry and what not. I will probably come back and edit it here and there as there are bound to be errors. Also, if you have a problem with my shoddy explanation of circuits and such, sorry. I will try and include some fun science facts next time. Please review if you liked it and especially if you didn't.


	7. Chapter 7

a/n: Hello everyone again. Life happens to throw crazy curveballs and suck out a lot of energy sometimes. Sorry about the no update in a long time. For those of you who are reading now, thanks for sticking it out this far and please give imput, rants, raves, etc. after you are done.

In the Anteroom

After transmitting the S.O.S. for the fifteen minutes the depleted power source allowed Nyota admitted defeat at the hands of the crushed device. Nyota had done all she could for the time being and sat for a moment nervously watching the shallow fall and rise of Spock's chest and scanning the room for any object she could use to her advantage. Her eyes touched on the face of the poet and she let a small prayer escape her mouth with begging eyes. It was then that her sensitive ears pricked at the muffled but carrying sound of foot falls. Not just the normal Vulcan cadence, but quick careful steps. Nyota began to yell, not thinking whether the source was foe or friend, just frantic at the thought of someone else in the tunnels. When he entered the large arch of the anteroom his eyes flashed relief and concern and he was nearly panting from the efforts of his search. Assessing the situation he quickly went to Spock's side, placing his hand on the side of Spock's face and engaging in a light probing of his mind. Finding emotions whipped up in a frenzy of color not unlike the storms of Vulcan, the man nearly recoiled to instinctively prevent emotional transferance. After steadying himself the man opened his eyes, his very expressive black eyes, and looked straight at Nyota.

In the scramble to get help Nyota had not registered the identity of this strange man, until a small ping of surprise lit up in her mind and she felt suddenly nervous under his stare. A small blush trailed up her neck until she remembered herself, and Spock's precarious condition. She struck up her nerve and spoke in Vulcan, cracking syllables here and there asking for the shi'has and hoping that the man understood her despite the strain of her vocal chords against her rising discomfort. Blinking as if removed from a trance, he replied in standard hitched with a strange accent, "yes we can get him to the care of a doctor, but it will be a combined effort. It is dangerous to carry him upright, we will have to build a small sled-like device." Please, if you would allow me to borrow your belt and the pack to your right."

Working with a speed and efficiency that made Nyota feel clumsy and hurried, the young Vulcan man put together a small cloth sling that could support Spock's head and a sled portion for the remainder of his , beckoning Nyota to stand, he reached around her waist, causing the skin on her body to tingle and every nerve to vibrate in anticipation of what she did not know. Once he had cinched this to her, he handed her two shoulder straps and motioned for her to do the same to him. Soon they were positioned much like a dog sled team, Nyota alternating between the tall broad-shouldered figure of her savior and Spock's still face. As an after thought Nyota took a small glowing coverlet from her pack and wrapped it around Spock's head like a halo, casting him in eerie light.

Nervous she listened as the young man explained the path they were to take and double-checked their harnesses. Then he told her a piece of information that drew the blood from her face and made panic seize her chest. "Nyota I suspect that Spock has been in contact with a hallucinegenic drug. While much of the pre-Surak culture was quite expressive and violent without the aid of mental stimulants, on some occasions it was not unheard of that a lover or an enemy in turn might lace a gift or bauble with the drug. Some upon contact with the sensitive skin of our species can cause incredible sensations, but I suspect that in concert with the constructed walls of mental control we currently employ it could completely destroy a psyche if left for long. We will run fast through the tunnels and it is crucial that you hold on to the shoulder straps and attempt to steer Spock along so that he does not hit the sides of the tunnels too hard. I would do this on my own but his blood volume is lowered and the danger of his expiring is too great. Now please run fast and carefully."

Nyota was surprised by the speed with which the young man took off and felt an uncomfortable tug and pull of the leads before she realized that she could keep pace with him. Down the dark corridors they ran, skidding at sharp corners and scraping against curves at a full tilt for what seemed an hour. Nyota was soaked with sweat and dizzy from the sensation of running blind, unable to see, but trusting wholly in the unknown man before her and desperately trying to keep Spock away from the walls. It was terrifying, the distance zipping past in a rush of air and the sound of the breathing and her heart lunging from her chest the only sensory indicators that there was anyone or anything around. Nyota ran until the muscles of her chest clenched painfully and her breath came in great pants rather than through her nose, and still kept pace, fearful for the one sound that was worrying her, the unsteady breath of Spock.

Crashing into the Vulcan man as he stopped abruptly Nyota look around in the darkness for some clue of their whereabouts. Flustered at the crush of contact, Nyota was glad for the excuse of running for her heartbeat skipping about and the darkness for her flush. No, as her eyes adjusted, it was lighter in this chamber, she could barely make out outline of the man in front of her, and she felt a sliver of hope to come in. Spock would survive this, he would make it out. He had to.

INSIDE SPOCKS MIND

Wading around in a valley of sand and, Spock walked about the expanse of his untouched mind. Here in his center he had cultivated a quiet calm, but he could feel stirrings just beyond his grasp of the fierce storms that were beginning to shake his calm. Spock tried to go over the events before he felt the encroaching darkness, but could not focus properly and maintain the dome of perfect red sky above. Small swirls of wind had begun to pick up and he worried that if the problem wasn't resolved soon he would lose himself to the storm and become an empty shell. Already he was holed up in the very core of himself, without definitive access to his upper layers of consciousness. Spock could only hope that Nyota would be able to figure out a way to leave the maze. At the thought of Nyota in the maze alone, a surge shook the sky and Spock had to clamp down on his emotions, contemplating the likelihood that the worst would transpire. Nyota's odds did not look good, and again the sky and this time the Vulcan shook.


	8. Chapter 8

a/n: So here I am writing again after just uploading my last chapter. Since the last chapter was short and I tend to write in bursts rather than steadily I decided to write a little more. Thanks for everyone who has reviewed or read my little story. Please sit back and enjoy this next chapter.

IN THE HOME OF AMBASSADOR SAREK

Lady Amanda wiped her neck with a delicate paisley handkerchief she carried with her from Earth those many years ago. Vulcan, despite all of her years on it, was still stifling in her long formal robes and she had practically melted on the short walk around the grounds of the Vulcan conservatory displaying a particularly beautiful set of Vulcan plant species in full bloom. Amanda had a love for flowers and it was rare treat to see any in bloom on Vulcan, even those native to the dry climate.

Feeling ill-at-ease after a glass of cold water and a small mint Amanda felt a niggling in her mind that it was more than the temperature that had affected her. It was late afternoon and she had not seen Spock and Nyota yet. Although she had not planned to be at home during this time of day she had been under the impression that they would stop by briefly and admitted that she was more than a little curious about how they had spent the day. Something was wrong, she couldn't shake the impression that came from her gut. Regardless of how it would be perceived later by Sarek and Spock she determined it was best to send an attendant to inquire about the whereabouts of her son and guest. One couldn't be too careful in the dry season, the heat could almost break even the hard edge of Vulcan control. Amanda sighed at the prospect of explaining her human intuition yet again to her men. Any teasing her in her current mood would be ill-advised. Quickly dispatching the strong young T'mohl to find Spock and Nyota Amanda walked up to the room to change into lighter clothing and sneak some chocolate.

IN THE TUNNELS

Nyota and the young Vulcan man had begun to run again, spurred on by the increasing light and a weak trembling moan that came from Spock's lips. With the growing visibility Nyota was able to make out details of the strange man that had come to the rescue. Up close the back of his head revealed soft waves in his hair that seemed uncommon on Vulcan. If before his shoulders had seemed broad, in the light the strong T of his shoulders and spine narrowed into an almost lanky waist, with light filtering through his porous shirt and giving Nyota a view of the shadows of his body. So close was she, that she could smell the saltiness of his sweat mixed with a undertone of something she might have thought was nutmeg. Nyota was also going over his accent in her mind, trying to place the meter and clip of his Vulcan. It seemed soft and beautiful to her. Everything about this man was one meter short of normal. Nyota was not even sure if Vulcan had confections that used a spice like nutmeg and wondered why he would smell of it. While Nyota was focused on gettng Spock out of the tunnels and the mystery of the man before her, she couldn't know the battle Spock was fighting against himself.

IN THE MIND OF SPOCK

Spock drew the edge of his robes up over his head to cover his face against the dancing sand dervishes that had picked up in the last few minutes. His sky still held, red and uncracked above him, but Spock knew that he must find a shelter in the expanse as soon the storm would break through. Coming up to some familiar rock formations, Spock looked for a space or crevice he could use to his advantage. Finding the desired spot, Spock went to work kicking at the stone to clear a larger area for himself and breaking off pieces he could use to close the entrance of the cave. It was large enough that Spock could stand slightly hunched and move about a few meters in either direction. It was rough, but the best he could expect. He was surprised that he had held onto this particular rock formation, it had been a favorite hiding spot to him as a young child. Still he could recall the long journeys out into the desert, his pet besides him, their shadows drawn long onto the shifting sand. Spock felt a twinge of loss remembering his oldest truest friend and fitted in the last rock blocking out the light from his hiding place as the first crack in the dome occured and several hundred followed. It was long before Spock could hear the raging of the elements, trapped in the cave from his own emotions. Resigned to wait for assistance or probable death Spock sat in meditation stance and tried to focus himself against storm outside.

a/n: So short addition to the last chapter. There was a little that I needed to do to set up the coming set of events. Keep reading and reviewing!  



	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Gosh the reader traffic has picked up since I posted the last two chapters, please read and review if you have something to say. Whatever it may be. Also, what do you think about men with accents? Spock is so good with linguistic nuance that he doesn't have an accent, but I personally think that an accent is kryptonite. As we have progressed to the ninth chapter I think it's fair to add that I will get a little more M rated soon, but don't fret I promise to try and keep a decent plot line going throughout. But I like this new guy. Love triangles are fun. I'm also playing in my head with a few new characters to add to the mix, possibly some OCs. I'm floundering a little there so please let me know if you like. Read and enjoy!

OUTSIDE THE MAZES

Bursting out of the final chamber into the light Nyota squinted and doubled over hands on her knees, trying to recover from her efforts. When she could open her eyes and see better, she spotted the young Vulcan man a few meters away on a high rock holding his hand above his eyes, hand on a hip, scanning the horizon. That was when Nyota realized they were not at the original entrance of the site. In fact, there seemed to be nothing for kilometers that was visible. Filling with anger and frustration at the situation, tears started to well up and spill over onto her face. Blinded by the stream, Nyota unhooked herself and walked over to the blurry figure of the Vulcan and jabbed her finger hard into his back shouting," Where the hell are we!"

As if he had not felt her prodding the Vulcan continued to scan about, answering her in an almost irritated tone, "We are near the only place on this half of the planet where a doctor might understand and be able to treat your charge's condition. Please be certain that if he had met any other rescue his death would be complete in a few hours. Now help me to look for a large blue rock in the distance or check the pulse of your charge, he needs treatment quickly."

At this Nyota swallowed her tears and wiped them away, noticing a slight throb of her finger as her anger abated and vision cleared. Nyota had not been one to over react often and was wary of conceding that she had in these circumstances. Exhausted from the release of her emotions so suddenly, Nyota walked over to Spock and gingerly ran her hand over the side of his face, wincing at the sparkle of static where her hand made contact. Placing two of her fingers where she had found a pulse last time, Nyota's features grew grim, if it was possible, the pulse was even more erratic and light than before. Nyota was reminded of a humming bird flitting from flower to flower. She gently adjusted the coverlet so that it protected at least part of Spock's face from the direct sunlight, and ran her hand one last time over his cheek, catching the corner of his lips with her finger. It seemed like an eternity ago that they had lunch and she had felt a tingle at his sudden show of intimacy. Standing from her crouch, Nyota went to the other side of the outcropping and began to look out along the terrain for a blue rock, determined to save Spock and find shelter before it grew dark and cold.

AT THE HOME OF AMBASSADOR SAREK

Sarek's entrance into the home with their guests found Amanda in loose clothes and a creased face sitting at a chair against the kitchen island. Staring off into the distance in deep concentration, Amanda startled at the newcomers, eyes opening and closing several times before recognition came. She had been in the bedroom when the sudden image of Spock wandering the desert came to her. Amanda had been in quiet contemplation and following a strange thirst walked into the kitchen. Once she had her drink, she had sat trying to place the image in her memory, searching for any indication of where the image had come from, almost certain that it had not originated from her own experiences of thoughts. Amanda was worried for Spock as she had been when he was a boy, angry at a world that rejected him when he had only offered peace. Spock had run off into the desert more times than she could count, not always coming back unscathed. She looked up into the eyes of her husband and he grew concerned at the fear plain in her eyes. He felt it from their bond, something was amiss. Gently flashing his concern to Amanda, Sarek offered his guests refreshments and they declined seeing the state of their hostess. Adilah and her husband retreated to their room, stating their need to change was greater than any need to consume the fruits offered.

Once the Uhuras had gone up to their rooms Sarek took his wife's hands in his and shared in the flashing image, recognizing Spock's attire from the morning and realizing then that he was in probable danger of loosing a second son. Sarek motioned to a waiting attendant and contacted his oldest friend. Spock was trapped internally, there was no telling where he was or what had happened to the young Uhura. He must do many things and quickly if he was to recover either of them. He dispatched members of his personal guard with the itinerary of Spock and Nyota and got a report from the attendant Amanda had sent out earlier that made solid their suspicions. Spock had been seen entering the mazes 6.23 hours ago with Nyota, according to plan the two should have enjoyed a performance and dined by now but had missed both appointments. A search party was organized with the help of influence from Sarek and the Uhuras who had joined him once he had confirmed his suspicions with the attendant. Sarek rubbed his wife's hands, mentally projecting his support.

His old friend arrived within minutes of being called, standing before all that were gathered an impressive sight. Vulcans as a species were larger than humans, but this particular friend was lauded for his physical prowess and proficiency in all the Vulcan arts of war. His hair was worn long, small strands twisted and braided with a colorful thread that gave an appearance of readiness for war and possibly an edge of fierce madness juxtaposed against carefully coiffed Vulcan society. Easily standing at seven and a half feet, the man seemed impossibly in control of his muscles as he moved through the entryway to the waiting crowd of worried parents with impossible grace. Sarek gave the Vulcan greeting and introduced all to Skan, war adviser to the Vulcan High council and leader of the planet's myriad military classes.

Relieved by the sight of this formidable man, all involved relaxed perceptibly, glad to have such an ally. Sarek drew his friend in, thanking him for taking so little time in spite of his schedule. Skan was debriefed quickly and took a small retainer of Vulcan soldiers, who by their dress were scouts, and readied to set out for the missing pair. All were surprised to see the head of the military ready to be involved so directly. Though Skan was clearly well conditioned and still had not reached his prime, his desire to be in the search party on the ground moved Amanda to tears. She thanked Skan with blurry eyes. Skan brushed the comment aside good naturedly, looking at Amanda and promising to return with her son and his charge. Skan had been a friend to Sarek since they were both boys and watched his son grow. Enjoying no children of his own due to a tragic accident, Skan had taken a liking to young Spock, treating him as he would his own son whenever they met. Although kept busy by the matters of the planet's security, Skan took pleasure in hearing of Spock's exploits. Secretly Skan applauded the desert treks Spock took, thinking back to his own childhood. Yes, Skan took this favor seriously. If anything should happen to the only child living that Skan could say he cared for, someone would find blame. His fellow warriors felt the thrill of the chase grow with the predatory gleam in their leaders eyes. It had been a long time since they had exercised their abilities in the field.

After Skan set out with his soldiers, Sarek ushered everyone into the informal sitting room for a much needed cup of cooling liquid. Almost immediately they began to make extra inquiries about the topography of the area, all known entrances and exits, and set reminders for sunset. If Vulcan was hot during the day, it grew freezing like Earth's deserts during the night. Spock was a resourceful person, but incapacitated in the tunnels with the young Uhura, Sarek was uncertain of the outcome.

INSIDE SPOCK'S MIND

Spock kept the meditation pose as he went over his thoughts, trying to control the surging tide of emotions around his cave. Spock let himself relax into the meditation deeper and deeper until he was processing a stream of recent memories. He came upon one that caused a great peal of thunder to sound nearby. It was Nyota as he had looked upon her after they bumped into each other that very morning. Now Spock began to tease apart the emotions, determined to prevent them from joining the roiling waves of his released feelings. Was it more than admiration then that he felt for this young woman? Spock kept coming back to the sight of her eyes, her mouth, the curve of brown skin illuminated by the golden pendant resting against her chest. Howling wind began to chafe against the stone and Spock reminded himself that analyzing the memories, not reliving them, was his purpose. Still, Spock recognized among the emotions a surprising lust that he had experienced rarely before that. His own intended was cold and calculating, keeping him so frigid by the disgust obvious in their bond that he rarely approached the depth of desire he now understood was clearly among the unidentified elements of his early analysis. Nyota was a rare Vulcan rain, pouring down in a deluge, practically drowning him, slicking his skin and leaving him shaking with a thousand drops of sensation over his body. As a boy Spock feared and loved the rain, its dangerous exotic nature calling to him. Once Spock had nearly drowned in a sudden downpour. He was alive with the fright of it all, supremely aware of the fragile nature of life after the incident. Somewhere another call of thunder came and the sound of millions of rain drops. Still far in the distance, Spock could only hope his inability to keep Nyota from his mind would not finish what nature had failed to all those years ago.

Spock hunkered down, ceaselessly evading the outcropping of thoughts of Nyota, laughing, smiling, thoughtful, expressive, beautiful, tempting, and possibly the last images Spock would ever see. One could have a less desirable end Spock thought with a rueful smile. He failed to keep her soft skin from his mind for shorter and shorter increments. Then in one sad moment Spock began to recall those he would leave behind. Faces of his mother, father, Earth cousins, and Skan in turn appeared before him. It would be difficult to leave this life he remembered. Spock gained resolve and redoubled his efforts at meditation, using his loved ones and a small twinkle of love to keep himself centered. It would do him no good if he could never express his sentiments to Nyota in person. No good at all.

NIGHT IN THE FOOTHILLS

Chattering teeth could not generate enough vibration to warm Nyota's body, neither could the long trek she and the Young Vulcan she had come to know as Saziz were making with Spock in tow. Spock was wrapped thickly in the comforter that had earlier been his protector from the heat and would be perfectly warm. Nyota on the other hand was making due with a leather jacket that was insufficient for the sudden drop in temperature. Angrier than before at her walking companion, Nyota had a permanent scowl lining her features and her hands jammed into the pockets. Saziz on the other hand was doing fine in the weather, having given Nyota his own jacket, but maintaining a steady body temperature by virtue of a regulatory system equipped for the hot days and cold nights of Vulcan. Saziz was practically skipping with delight as they neared their destination, pointing out the edge of the encampment to Nyota. Wondering at the placement of the camp, Nyota couldn't help but let a chill that was completely removed from the temperature run up her spine. If she screamed out here, no one would come to her rescue this time.

a/n: Please review and tell me how you are doing with the new things I have thrown in the mix. Thriller, love story, gentle erotica? I'm not sure what's going on here.


	10. Chapter 10

a/n: Today's theme will get a little more M rated. Oh and don't forget to review, I get my kicks from that. Plus, since I keep forgetting this, I don't own star trek and stuff. Unless...someone want to buy me the rights to Spock?

IN THE FOOTHILLS OF VULCAN

Skan had spent the hours leading up to sunset tracking the strange path Nyota, an unknown male and an apparently dragged Spock created through the dust. An expert tracker, Skan and his team made quick work of the trail in the mazes, traveling twice as fast as the pair before them had. Still, with the time difference it grew dark and still Skan did not find them.

He was slightly surprised that they had come out to this entrance of the ruins, it had not been marked on the maps and yet it was obvious that the path was deliberate. Skan stood over the rocks and scanned the horizon, seeing nothing to indicate why the lost group had traveled in this direction. Skan made his decision. Drawing out his short sword from its sheath he motioned to group, taking only his two best trackers and sending the rest to make camp out of view and prepare for wounded. This situation smelled foul to Skan, to his warrior's instinct the path ahead held danger.

To a random passerby the Vulcan would have looked like an relic from the time before, come up from the ruins to claim his desire. Skan's pupil were dilated to their full extent, rimmed by irises hued molten honey in contrast, his short sword swung over his shoulders as he waited for the groups to split the packs and weapons up. He let his face fall into a dead grimace, haunting shadows of the darkness making the bones of his cheeks pop up in relief. Even his soldiers were wary of him, knowing the turbulent emotions of the hunter that had risen up in him. It wouldn't be long before he met with battle.

ON THE OUTSKIRTS OF THE ENCAMPMENT

Weary and near frozen Nyota was succumbing to the cold. Not lucid enough to even think of her extremeties, Nyota walked on like a zombie behind Saziz unaware that they had reached their destination until she bumped into his back. Saziz gently unbuckled her from the harness and waived to another man in the shadows to attend to Spock. Her body was limp, and felt cold even as the heat from a warm room began to work on her.

She attempted to resist as he took off the jacket and began to rub her extremeties with his large hands. They were rough, but gentle, and unable to put up much of a fight Nyota let them bring the feeling back to first her hands then feet. As she warmed up Nyota became much more aware of the touch of the man, trying to hold back the tide of discomfort at the direct contact with a touch telepath.

A spark of amusement flow from him and it felt inappropriately intimate. Nyota started to laugh nervously out loud for lack of a better response. Saziz stopped his ministrations abruptly, raised a quizzical eyebrow, and let his mouth curl into a jaunty smile as he said, "I was under the belief that foot rubs on Earth were considered relatively platonic."

Stopping at that, Nyota suddenly remembered this was not Earth and that Spock was not in the small sitting room with them, no one was. Scrambling to her feet Nyota spoke,"Would you mind taking me to see Spock? I am really worried about him, and I probably shouldn't be getting foot rubs while he is in danger."

Letting his face fall a bit, Saziz straightened up and lifted his arm so that Nyota would walk before him through the doorway. They traveled through a long hallway and Nyota stiffened at the view from several open doors along it. Bare bodies, bent and laying in the throes of ecstasy were gathered together in groups and couples. One man looked up from his lover straight at Nyota with eyes that were completely black and a lopsided grin. She quickly looked away. From the glimpses she got, Nyota had to guess they were Vulcan, but could not believe that such could be the case. Vulcans had perfect control right? But hadn't she always thought that was a lie?

Still, this was too much. Having open, raw, passionate sex where people could see was not something she could have imagined on Vulcan. Some of the groups involved such pairings as Nyota could never have imagined. There were a variety of themes in the rooms that clashed with the next. One couple had restraints and weapons designed for torture, their bodies covered in green blood they attempted to lick from each other while pumping furiously. It was too much for Nyota who had only watch a few movies with Zandi that had semi-nudity in them, giggling the whole time. Before it had been kissing and light petting, there was too much here for Nyota to understand it all.

Nyota's normally caramel complexion grew a red, then purple undertone as her embarrassment with the situation grew. Her arms inched up to cover her chest in a protective cross. She didn't realize she had been barely breathing until they had passed the long hallway and come to a door that was mercifully closed. Actually Nyota was not certain the other rooms possessed doors to close. Not wanting to stand in the hallway any longer than necessary Nyota opened the door. It was dark, with only a few small purple candles lit, in the room. Spock's body was in the center on a low table, presided over by an incredibly ancient Vulcan. The phrase "Ancient of Days" came to mind as she looked at the wrinkles that had invaded the bald head of the old bent man. His face was serene as he held his hand over Spocks forehead and appeared to be probing deep into Spock's mind.

Nyota was uncomfortable with the whole situation. This old man who seemed to be doing what any other doctor might do, Saziz who had practically taken advantage of her in the Vulcan sense, and the writhing Vulcan bodies she had seen. Somehow she would have to escape and take Spock with her or make contact with someone who could help. But she was exhausted, half frozen, hadn't eaten in half a day, and was admittedly only a teenager. Nyota felt the frustating limits of her age. If only she could have had the sense not to follow this crazy man, maybe a rescue party would have been sent. If only she could be safe in the arms of her mom and dad right now. It was childish she knew, but Nyota was too tired to care.

Saziz looked at the forlorn young woman and felt as if he was looking on a child. A sudden pulse of pity moved him and he left to get the only person in the encampment that the girl might gain comfort from.


	11. Chapter 11

a/n: Hopefully you all enjoyed the weekend tremendously. Here is the next installment in my little interpretation of events. Thanks for all of your comments, they were greatly appreciated. Sorry once again about the patchiness of my writing. For some reason I lack consistency in my inspiration. Half of this chapter was written as soon as I uploaded the last, but it just kind of sat. I also was thinking about including music recommendations for reading. A friend of mine experimented with themed music for his blog entries and it was kind of nice. We'll see how I could possibly work that out. In lieu of that I could just recommend that you check out That's It I Quit I'm Moving On by Adele. And on to the fic...

IN THE ENCAMPMENT

Nyota had made a place for herself in the small dimly lit room by squeezing into a corner. Sleep was coming in micro naps now. She wanted to at least have her back to the wall if she fell asleep. No matter how sharp the edge of her senses, sleep stole her for a few seconds, then minutes. Soon she feared sleep would win and she and Spock would both be left unconscious in this precarious place. Nyota brought her forearms over her knees, pulling them up to her chest and keeping one eye on the aged Vulcan working on Spock. Two tears fell from either eye and made trails through the dust that had covered her face on their long journey. Dirty and stretched to her limit Nyota's eye closed and she finally fell into an uneasy sleep.

Walking by the slight moonlight through the encampment Saziz found the door he was looking for. Knocking in the agreed upon code, the door creaked open almost instantly. A mixture of stale air and nutmeg flowed from the opening. Not that Saziz found the smell cloying and overwhelming, he had grown up in it, had found his early fondest memories in nutmeg spiced food given him by the only parent he had ever known. One streak of moonlight escaped into the small room turning the gray hair of the woman silver in the light, skin translucent, and stripping her grey eyes of color. From a distance this woman might have appeared as a ghostly apparition on the surface of Vulcan. Saziz grinned at the sight of the woman, walking up to her and moving his arms around her waist to spin her in a circle while saying, "Hello mamoo, I have come bearing gifts." Smiling, the woman placed her hand against her son's face and said, "where are these gifts?" "I will go and bring them to you. Wait here." Saziz disappeared through the door as quickly as he had come, closing the door. Nasreen watched her son go, shaking her head at how beautifully child-like he could become when excited. Nasreen's eye clouded over as she remembered that he wouldn't be a child for much longer. His fires would approach soon, and then she could not save him from the fate of the culture he had been raised in, despite her best efforts.

SPOCK'S MIND

Spock was trying to meditate desperately, but found that the small trickle of water that had done what no sand storm could was causing him to chill and the trim of his outfit to grow damp. He was longing for dry clothes, but determined to outlast the annoyance. He checked his internal clock and found that he had succesfully meditated for a full hour this time. It was impressive, but perhaps not enough, if the water was any indication. Craning his neck slightly to the left to engaged his neck muscles in stretching to release tension. Suddenly it clicked that while the water level had risen, the howling of the wind had died down some. Amazed at the change Spock devoted his full attention to the sounds outside, picking up no rise in the storm with the lapse in meditation. Spock, sitting for a few minutes listening for assurance, made the decision. A small crack appeared in his cave, allowing in a low light. Outside it was raining gently, but the dust storm and lightning made no further show. Even as Spock worked to widen the entrance over the next few minutes, the rain fell steadily and the clouds moved gently, passing by with little haste. Spock was in wonder. His mind had rarely seen rain. Although unsure about the reasons, Spock saw an intact sky, cloudly or not as a good thing. Perhaps he should begin his track back to towards the upper layers of his mind. He might find shelter elsewhere along the path if events should turn. Slightly chilled, but seizing the opportunity created by the change, Spock began his trek.

IN THE FOOTHILLS

Skan sat with his small group, back to the night storm. Vulcan's hot earth was tossed up by the large storm that had appeared not unexpectedly in the desert. Chunks of the the now cooled earth flew through the wind like many meteors overhead. The warriors had taken shelter against the direction of the wind currents under a cave enclosure somehow eroded into the rock, probably by centuries of similar storms. His faced wrapped with only a small slit for his eyes, Skan's men could still see the tension in his muscles. It had been some decades since Skan had participated in military exercises as a young man in this very region. While much of Vulcan society considered itself escaped from the illogic of superstition and instinct, Skan's near lifetime of experience gave him the sense to realize better. This valley, apparition, ghost or not, had been the site of gruesome deaths to many a young soldier caught off guard. It had been centuries since anyone had thought of it seriously, but Skan was wary, he had felt too many eyes on his patrols. No, something was out there, and it had Spock and his charge.

NASREEN'S HOME

Saziz returned to his mother's home carrying something that looked like a wisp of cloth from a distance. Upon entering Nasreen realize it was merely a young girl. Her face was completely slack from exhaustion and Nasreen saw that the what she had interpreted as flowing movement, was the fitful twitching of an involuntary horrible daze-like sleep. She scolded Saziz for not bringing her earlier and set about making a space on a low flat cushioned wood-based sleeping pat. Feeling her head, the young girl was clammy and cold even with the poor circulation in Nasreen's hands. She ordered Saziz to fluff the few pillows and lay warm insulation blanketing over the poor thing. Nasreen was sure that she had not seen a young human girl in some forty years or so. It had been so long since she had swept the courtyard of her sunlit home back on Earth. Her favorite pomegranate tree hanging heavy with dark red fruit she loved to eat sitting on the flat roof. Nasreen was surprised by the forcefulness of the image, it was so vivid she could taste the earth and tart juice. Her eyes went wide and she had to pinch her eyes shut at the memory. a tear escaped unnoticed and she went back to her work. There would be later times to think on those early years. For now she must see that this reminder of her past would survive the night.

IN THE ENCAMPMENT

Spock awoke with a thrilling jolt of violent tremors and a loud primal scream. His body contorted and arched as if in the grips of tetanus and his jaw clenched at the rush of sensation that slapped him like warp speed for the time. After a few moments of further disorientation Spock lay panting to find himself in an empty low-lit room. Where was he? How had he gotten in this predicament? He quickly flashed to his last memory...Nyota. Where was Nyota? Spock was up and running down the corridor, the horror mounting in his side and heart at room after room of debauchery. It was almost too much, he felt his legs heavy as his mind processed the shock. What was this place? How could he find Nyota? Spock refused to imagine the worst of what lingered at the threshold of his near terror. If he let loose the encroaching swirl of rage and confusion he would be no good to her. Spock wiped his face, realizing tears had been pouring down his face. At the end of the corridor Spock reached an open door that seemed to lead outwards. In the least she had not been in any of the rooms.

a/n: Well this chapter just can't seem to write itself, but I couldn't just let it sit here unfinished. If you like, give me your input about what you think could be changed.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: Has it really been so long since I have updated? Sorry about that one...but either way I don't own star trek and this is the next installment of my first star trek fic.

IN THE ENCAMPMENT

Spock pressed his body to the wall of the building he had just exited dramatically, assessing his situation and allowing his eyes to adjust in the span of a few seconds. Moving through the encampment like a whisper, Spock was still wary of being detected by whoever or whatever had brought him here. Led by the singular note that was Nyota's fragrance Spock found himself crouched against a building that smelled faintly of nutmeg. Cringing at the knowledge that he had fallen into the encampment of beings that rejected Surak's teachings on sexuality, Spock could only guess at the use of nutmeg. Copious amounts of the fruit of the plant were used in early Terran history as a psychoactive, and even traces, a slight bit of the oil or powder form, would act as a heavy aphrodisiac or strip the most practiced Vulcan of the bonds of mental control. Spock calculated the chances of Nyota having survived thus far in such a compound unharmed as slim and proceeded through the door, ready to do damage to her captors.

IN THE FOOTHILLS

Skan had gathered his soldiers and begun to track under the dark of the night, his eyes dilated and hungrily searching for any sign of Spock in the wake of the storm. He split his two soldiers and they flitted alongside him in a large interweaving sinusoidal pattern to cover a larger distance and periodically converge to discuss their findings. Unable to dispatch large craft because of the natural magnetic field present in the area, Skan and his small contingent were sufficient for this exercise in the dark. When questioned by his team earlier he had replied, "Our foe's trail is deliberate. They know the landscape and would have a distinct advantage once surprise is lost to us. For the time being a small group is best." Skan had spoken the words with an edge of bitterness that made it final.

After several hours Skan saw the approach of light and wondered whether Spock would see the day coming with his own eyes. Shaking his head to clear himself of the purposeless thoughts Skan signalled to his fast approaching scouts. They would stop and assess the landscape in the brighter light of day.

NASREEN'S HOME

After several hours of feverish quaking the young woman had finally calmed down enough for Nasreen to sit and rest. She turned her tired body towards where her son was sitting at a workbench in the next room and spoke, restraining the curiosity and worry from her voice. "Saziz, is this girl one the elders have had brought from one of the colony worlds we normally are supplied by?" A palpable silence filled the arch between the two rooms until Saziz replied, "She is, as you can see from her appearance, not of Vulcan world mamoo. We are supplied by human colonies as well."

Unsatisfied Nasreen replied briskly, "That is not what I wanted to know Saziz. Is she of one of the colonies or was she visiting Vulcan and this encampment of her own free will." Saziz countered with, "She walked into this camp with her own walking abilities. She was not dragged or coerced. I found her in the tunnels of the archaelogical site where I work and she was in need of my assistance."

Realizing she had started an argument, Nasreen sighed and said, "We can ask her what she wants to do when she wakes up then." As an afterthought she added, "And we will help her do as she wishes no matter the consequences." Nasreen smoothed a hand over Nyota's forehead, forgetting herself and clucking her tongue in worry as she had with her son in his childhood. It was strange how easily it came back to her and how natural it felt. Her son had not needed such mothering in so long. She was sitting with the soft smile on her face, bittersweet memories rushing by, when the front door swung open wildly letting in the darkness and a tall Vulcan...half-Vulcan? Bewildered by the sudden entrance Nasreen had no time to act before her son and the stranger were face to face, Saziz holding his hands palms facing outwards in a gesture of human supplication and then being launched over the table.

SAZIZ

Attempt at peace thwarted Saziz was up quickly, stepping into the archway between the angered Vulcan and his mother so fast that the Vulcan called Spock let a instant of surprise express itself. He had not meant for this to come to blows, but Saziz was not going to take any chances with his mother steps from him. Disabling the younger smaller Vulcan would require a well executed nerve pinch, and Saziz wasted no time taking advantage of his agility and dispatching the young Vulcan. Looking from the Vulcan to his mother, Saziz searched her angry face and said sheepishly, "This is the Vulcan the young woman needed assitance with. I suppose he will be a part of the help she will require upon waking."

A/N: So there goes chapter 12. Hopes and wishes fulfilled? 


	13. Chapter 13

Here comes another installment in the story. So far the action in the story has been building and a lot of mysteries are left unsolved, but I hope to slowly undo those in these next few chapters. This might mean a few more flashbacks. As always I don't own star trek, but the OCs are products of my imagination. Enjoy and if you feel the urge, review! Also, don't worry I'm not abandoning this story in favor of my short winter fic Better Winter Breaks.

A little bit more about Nasreen will be explored in this chapter. Her character is especially interesting for me. I envision Nasreen as a young woman, growing up in one of the few enclaves of traditional culture on Terra. Her homeland would have been almost as dry and unyielding as Vulcan, but possessing an old world charm. She swept the courtyard and learned traditional arts and medicine as an homage to her culture. When I think of her I think of the poem Lot's Wife by Anna Akhmatova, but I don't think she'll have an ending that sad. I will include it at the end for those interested. And now on to the show!

NASREEN'S HOME

Spock woke slowly, like an old Earth computer model he had seen in a museum as a child. Slow scripting commands and lists of vital processes scrolling slowly as his brain booted back up. Once his head was clearer from the effects of the nerve pinch, the Vulcan rolled his shoulder and began to assess his situation. Once again he found himself in a strange room, though this time he was tied by an elaborate set of Vulcan knots a what looked to be a complex Andorian weave at the end of a Vulcan-made durable rope. It would take him hours to undo the rope, hours he was sure would not be conducive to escape.

Frustrated, though he would never call it that, Spock clenched his eyes shut stretching his senses for anything that might be in the area. He smelled the ever-present nutmeg filtering through stale air, heard the small sounds of a tea pot being poured and a quiet chatter in a dialect of Arabic he wasn't familiar with, there was the din of work outside in the encampment, Nyota's laughter. Wait, Spock hadn't recognized Nyota's voice laced in the long purring vowels and spitfire consonants and the uplifted questioning pitch of the Arabic until he replayed the sound in his mind.

It should not be a surprise to him, but Nyota's grasp of languages, even if their were Terran, seemed to exceed his. She had spoken the language so naturally he had not picked up her voice from the others. Others which included a male. Spock had to center himself and meditate for a few seconds to calm the sudden urge to ram himself through the wall. Doing so would mean causing the collapse of the structure and possible harm to the other occupants.

Spock reasoned that by virtue of his being alive and his current position words would be the most effective weapon available to him. Still he couldn't help but feel the fine edge of his mind blur. He theorized that his Terran heritage only prevented the nutmeg from affecting him to a certain degree. He felt an inability to sustain perfect control of his emotions that he normally attributed to his human half and the dissonance of recognizing that by being human he was effectively saved from losing all control.

He considered the irony of the situation, and briefly wondered if his peers would have found it beneath their observation. Spock stretched his neck back, squeezing his eyes shut against muddled thoughts. It was becoming difficult to stand the traces of nutmeg in the air.

A sudden piercing line of light shattered the dark room. Spock's eyes flew open, then squinted to view the form of the Vulcan he had attempted to rescue Nyota from. Spock felt his nostrils flare as a simmering tide of anger came to the forefront of his mind, before a wet cloth was unceremoniously clapped over his face.

Shocked by what he thought was an attempt at taking his life, Spock fought until the blurred edges of his vision subsided. He was stilled by surprise when the suspiciously almond scented cloth was not a threat to his being. His arms felt less limp, his thoughts more controlled, though he still looked up at the Vulcan man in barely concealed surprise. Words were lost as a weapon to Spock rendering him once again defenseless in front of this strange Vulcan.

AT THE HOME OF AMBASSADOR SAREK

Looking over at his wife, Sarek noticed the small tremor in her shoulders before she tried to clamp down again. He felt the mounting dread drying out her mouth and the pins and needles of her hands as she closed another fruitless call to the head of the search parties installed nearly everywhere in the city. It was an almost welcome reprieve from the chasm of indeterminable anguish that had been racking her body. There was a dull ache in the muscles of his chest where his heart would have been if he were human. The alternative however, leaving his wife alone to her grief, was not an option. Sarek sent a small shadow of his love like vapor and Amanda was visibly comforted. It could not go on like this. Bolstered by the desire to protect his small family and their guest, Sarek instructed the comm to start yet another communication.

What brought out the despair in Amanda brought out a fury that challenged the seasons in the ambassador Uhura. Carefully crafted conversations with an eerie decisiveness moved across the channels in communication after communication. Benjamin found himself an efficient companion, churning out notes and coom numbers alongside his wife with almost Vulan precision.

Spurred on by the thought of their children, the room continued on in silence.

SKAN

Skan had taken two of his best scouts out into the desert and it was growing to be the high heat of the day. Showing now sign of tiring Skan still acknowledged the need to regroup. Reconnaisance and spy networks at his disposal, Skan hoped the main scouting force had returned information of value from the ruins. It would be valuable in the never ending twists and formations of this impregnable wasteland. Few had ever known the turns of the earth in this place.

Skan would wait again for dark, when the winds threw stone and metal shrapnel that did not sear the flesh from his soldiers. Damn whatever part of ancient Vulcan magic lay here.

NASREEN'S KITCHEN

Trilling laughter lit up Nasreen's eyes at the saucy jokes the young woman told. It had been ages since she and Saziz had found conversation in this language, this tongue that flew from her mouth like water to the ground from the sky. This girl could wring thoughts out of Nasreen, memories she had not shared in so long it felt strange to meet them again. They talked as Saziz helped her extract the drug that counteracted the effects of nutmeg for Spock. It was a natural process, made from a nut that grew in the land of her birth. All of the spices the old people called upon were made anew again in her kitchen. Vulcans in particular seemed to be affected by her salves and tonics. The night Saziz was conceived being the night that brought her out to this alien world.

She told stories of her Vulcan mate, Saziz's father, and her son smiled with such pride it brought fresh tears to her waterlines- threatening to break. Her stories stretched out the early day as she made vials of the almond cure and a little oil for the girl's skin. She had such lovely skin it did not make sense to have it break and tear in this dry heat. They sat on stools around the kitchen and makeshift-lab table, drinking chai with milk and honey like old friends.

Nyota glanced at the interaction between the two and her heart was warmed. She had woken up sore and stiff, begrudgingly accepting help and warm soup from Saziz. His mother had thought it his penance and as he detailed their plan to get her and Spock out of the encampment unharmed, the warm soup and words brought her to resignment. An unexpected bonus had come when Nasreen had tutted at Saziz in a language that Nyota had studied last summer. She had started out asking cautiously, then lost herself in the words, always her kryptonite. Soon Nyota felt like her heart was moving on a parallel path with this woman's story. It would be difficult to explain this all to her probably pissed off mother, but Nyota kept thinking linguistic star-crossing badass indeed she will become. Come deserts or ice planets.

a/n: So there it goes. Review at your leisure ladies and gents. Oh and love to the lurkers of course.

Lot's Wife

_Lot's wife looked back and turned into a pillar of salt._

Genesis

Holy Lot was a-going behind God's angel, He seemed huge and bright on a hill, huge and black. But the heart of his wife whispered stronger and stranger: "It's not very late, you have time to look back At these rose turrets of your native Sodom, The square where you sang, and the yard where you span, The windows looking from your cozy home Where you bore children for your dear man." She looked - and her eyes were instantly bound By pain - they couldn't see any more at all: Her fleet feet grew into the stony ground, Her body turned into a pillar of salt. Who'll mourn her as one of Lot's family members? Doesn't she seem the smallest of losses to us? But deep in my heart I will always remember One who gave her life up for one single glance 


	14. Chapter 14

This chapter we are going to explore the mystery that is Nasreen and the first time she met the man who would give her Saziz. Yes people, I think I might have just committed to making this story insanely much longer than what I planned. There's freaking OC story arc. But this chapter will not get into their entire story, just the beginning of it. I'll be filling in more pieces.

Also, if you can't tell by now, I do not follow canon. I try, really I do, but you are reading my interpretation of events with limited knowledge of the Star Trek universe. Feel free to educate me/throw resources my way. And now on to the arc.

THE UNITED STATES OF AFRICA

A village near the Saharan atlas (formerly Algeria)

Finely powdered sand sifted through the toes of her sandals as the dark-haired girl walked with a heavy water-filled vase balanced on her head. His eyes were drawn to her dark eyes and brows that like his own, drew in the most casual observer in this part of the world. They were like the ink scripted pictures of ancient earth, intense and rich with pigment; the arch ending as if painted by quills. But her eyes made the sweep of her brows deeper, so dark that they seemed to shine. To say he was intrigued by this girl was an understatement. Not yet in his full adulthood by Vulcan standards, he was still convinced that he had never and would never see a face like that again.

Knowing that the smallness of the village would allow him more opportunities over the course of the next few days to see her, even then, he had an unexplainable difficulty watching her form disappear over the hill crest into the next cluster of homes. The young Vulcan watched until he could see the last of bit of her balancing hand before his friend was able to break him from his intellectual inertia. He stared into the other Vulcan's eyes, nodding in reception of the words he had not actually heard for the 5.2 minutes it took the young woman to enter his sight and thoughts then leave the former. Auspicious beginnings for their trip in the United States of Africa. If any Vulcan had ever believed in auspices.

Trying again, the young Vulcan's friend was able to engage him in conversation.

"Friend, are we to dine here at the home of the tribal leader or would you prefer that we follow the young men into the upper cliffs?"

"I believe I am in agreement with the prospect of exploring the natural attributes of this land further. Perhaps it will allow us to intiate ourselves into the ranks of the young men in this tribe."

"Yes, these lands have little water but, like our own planet, much to offer in the way of objects of interest. On our trek we passed some formations I would like to take holographs of. It will be a suitable way to document the details for any comparison studies in erosion I would like to undertake at the VSA."

"Perhaps... We should join them in their tracking and exploration activities."

"Agreed."

He and his friend were on a sojourn to see the elephants in a more South-Eastern portion of the USA. Their stop in this small village was to observe a way of life that was seen and catalogued by few outsiders. Clearly the small village held some charm for him, he thought as he undid the ties of his Vulcan robes. Its people had withstood the dry desert lands for some thousands of years before the first contact with post-warp societies and had done so after in the same fashion. Most of his Vulcan colleagues and peers would view this as an immutability born of ignorance, but he had seen some merit in the lifestyle. It was silent and the people were industrious, bright, and held on to the beliefs of their forefathers. They reminded him none too little of Vulcans in their persistance along the same path.

Removing the last of his garments, he let the tingle of the dry warm air pass over his torso. After a few moments of figuring out the design and purpose of the traditional clothing given him by an older Berber woman, he dressed and joined his friend out in the daylight. As his eyes adjusted to the slight hooded-ness from the headpiece he wore, he was spurred to comment on his friend's dress.

"If you were to spend a day in the dusty winds, I believe you might pass as a member of the tribe with your current state of dress."

Not one to leave his friend's words without companionship the Vulcan's friend lanced back.

"I find it apropos that you make that observation, as being a member of the tribe is one of only a few legetimate means to gain access to the female population of the village. Perhaps incentive for you to roll in the dust?"

The young Vulcan's eyes danced with mischief as the two walked towards the group in the Vulcan equivalent of an amused silence-eyes all smiles.

ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE VILLAGE

Nasreen had picked up her pace the second she was out of sight of the strange newcomers to the village. Bursting with excitement, she walked with her unoccupied arm pumping furiously to get to the door of her home. Dihya was fanning the flames of the claypot where she was cooking. Nearly tilting the jar on its side in her anxiosness, Nasreen earned a well-aimed glare and hiss from her older sister. Looking sheepish and still shaking with the need to tell her story, Nasreen waited until Dihya was done checking the flames and looked at her little sister. Blurting out her words all in a jumble all Dihya could make out was, "EEEE...point...and then...eyes...you have to see the brows...so tall!"

Nasreen went on for almost a minute in her incoherent gibberish before Dihya cut her chatter short.

"Again Nasreen with your stories. What do you mean to tell me?"

Trying again now that she had vented some excitement Nasreen continued.

"It was a man, he was young, but his eyes were so fierce. He and his friend were from the stars. I just know it! They had these eyebrows...okht if you had seen. They were so dark, but one of them looked at me and I was not afraid. I'm telling you there were two of them."

Dihya sighed and replied, "Of course little one. How could someone not get excited at people from the sky. But stay away from them, your place is here. We have plenty to excite us in the next few days. Now we must continue to prepare for the marriage festivities coming up. I need you to go fetch some more fuel. Take Youba with you, and be careful who you speak to. Go on."

Skipping through the door Nasreen was already plotting how to meet her new man from the sky. Youba listened to her, he would follow her plan to find him.

NEARING THE MOUNTAINSIDE

While the entire expedition led the two young Vulcan men into the dry unforging desert, the sun rose in the sky. Finding small copses of natural shrubs, the Vulcans marveled at how the people of the area affected the dense growth of the sparse patches of trees with their constant pruning. Tall and monolithic, the Saharan Atlas stood in the back drop of their travels, the final and, despite all logic, awe-inspiring destination. Each man had seen numerous sites purported to hold unique aesthetic qualities, but upon even second view, the Atlas left a lingering sensation of their own inconsequence.

It was in the hilly start of the mountain with the small copses of stubby trees and shrubs that they ran into the little girl again, clinging wildly to the branches of a short tree, tears streaming down her cheeks as she yelled at a snake coiled at the base. Her young friend had a stick and managed to swing it around with his little arms. Assessing the species and situation with almost the same speed, the group of young men and Vulcans stopped to render aid to the two children. It wouldn't do to have the children bitten by the sand viper. In all likelihood, the wild swings of the young boy would only serve to agitate the snake, and it appeared ready to strike. With greater speed and agility the two Vulcans made it to the scene first, removing the young boy and then disabling the snake with the branched end of a stick. Moments later the girl was coaxed down the stubby tree into the arms of the Vulcan. Even with his muted shields, he could sense a wonderous mix of emotions. Carrying the young girl in his arms to the group of Algerian men that had finally reached them, Skan was amazed. Where her tiny hand rested on his face he had felt his mind swell with the thoughts of another. Her emotions though fogged by his efforts had the effect of a dream.

Nasreen had followed the tenor voice that spoke her language with an almost alien precision. It had led her to a strong arms that radiated heat even here in the Atlas. Afraid to open her eyes Nasreen's hand grasped until it felt a cheek. Smooth, warm, almost stone like against her palm, she felt safe and proceeded to fall asleep.

a/n: So what do you think? This update has also been waiting in the wings. I actually wanted to post this chapter before the last, but when I'm finished with the final story I'll see about revamping it and editing things. Ugh I need a beta one of these days.


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